Hunted and Haunted: Book One
by Snow Bender
Summary: Seattle is a dreary place, filled with demons, Downworlders, and home to an Institute full of young Shadowhunters from around the world. With an increase of strange activity in the city, the Nephilim are called to combat the dark forces on the outside. But are they equipped to face the dark forces on the inside? (SYOC closed)
1. Prologue, pt I

_January 31st, 2016, 2:05 a.m._

The Institute was dark and quiet, the impeccably cleaned, gray-painted walls standing tall and proud – imposing. The checkered, tiled floor was cleaned and polished to perfection, shining underfoot as small, combat-booted feet clicked softly on its surface – the only sound that broke the stifling silence. A lone figure strode down the hallways, a witchlight clutched loosely in its right hand and a still-bloodied seraph blade in its left. There was a slight stagger in its walk; it was favoring its left side, as though it was injured. And anyone who knew the identity of the figure would know that an injury was fairly likely, since said figure preferred to hunt alone.

The figure sighed heavily as it reached its destination – a small room at the very end of the hall. It walked in with a small groan and headed for the bathroom. It left the door open and flicked on the light. It looked in the mirror and took in the sight – its dark, shoulder-length hair tangled and matted with ichor and blood, its olive-tan skin marred in multiple places with superficial wounds, mascara smudged beneath its pale, green-gold eyes, and its black outfit ripped over its hip, where a not-so-superficial wound resided.

The girl in the mirror closed her eyes and pulled her shirt up to examine the injury, a curse on her plump, split lips as she moved to draw an iratze just over the wound. She hissed through gritted teeth, counted to ten, and took a deep breath to steady herself as the wound stitched itself back together. She was so absorbed in her ministrations that she didn't notice the slight creak of the door opening, nor the footsteps that made their way into the bathroom with her.

"Shiloh, are you okay?"

The girl jumped, her stele clattering from her fingers into the floor as she spun toward the gruff, sleep-ridden voice. Her eyes went from wide and alarmed to narrowed and angry – though not at the newcomer - in half a second, and she turned back to the mirror. "I'm fine, thanks," she responded, reaching over to turn on the sink and wash the blood off of her hands.

The newcomer – a boy of nineteen or so – leaned on the doorjamb, his golden-red hair falling into his brown eyes as he took in the sight of the girl. "You don't look fine," he replied, a tiny, concerned frown on his lips as he swept his gaze up and down the girl, appraising for injuries that he might have missed at first glance.

"Well, I am. You don't have to check up on me so often, Neil." Shiloh's voice held the same level of emotionlessness as always. She'd only come to the Institute three months ago, after an incident in her home in Idris had claimed the life of her father. Shiloh, being only seventeen years old, had been required to go and live with her next-of-kin, which had just so happened to be her uncle on her father's side, Martin Timbervale, and his family - his wife, Gertrude Timbervale, formerly Ravenscar, and their son, Neil Timbervale - along with the rest of the Seattle Institute's residents. So far, she hadn't adjusted very well, and hadn't truly made friends with any of her peers - including Neil, though he had tried hard to get her to open up to him. All she had told him about her was that her parents had divorced when she was young, and her mother had left her with her father. He knew virtually nothing about how her home life had been, if she'd ever been outside Idris apart from recently... nothing.

And Shiloh was fine with that.

In all honesty, she didn't want to hurt his feelings. It was obvious that Neil, though he had friends in his own Institute, was excited to have family there. Shiloh simply wasn't used to all of the people she suddenly had to be around all the time. It had just been her and her dad in Idris, and she hadn't known how to react to his sudden passing and her subsequent moving halfway across the world. So, she decided it would be better to retreat back inside her own shell for awhile and just talk to the others when she had to. Not to mention the fact that something about the Institute just didn't seem right to her - though that may have just been because she wasn't used to it. She was used to a small apartment building in Idris, not a massive, mostly-empty church. She was used to sunlight and good weather and tea and good food, not rain and grunge music and black coffee and greasy crap. Shiloh knew it was just the culture shock, but she still couldn't shake the uneasiness that settled in her gut.

A sigh broke the silence. Neil had waited until the wound on her side healed up all the way before he turned to leave the room without another word, clearly disappointed that his efforts once again proved useless.

Shiloh sighed and washed her face free of blood and ichor and headed back into her bedroom to change into a more comfortable outfit to sleep. In the morning, she'd be expected to get up and spend time around the other members of the Institute, whether she liked it or not. It was just a fact of life now.

She eased her tired body down on the bed, slipped under the covers, and situated herself on her back, like always. The uneasy feeling was back at full force, winding its way throughout her body and tensing up her muscles, as though her instinct was telling her that something was off. She took a few moments to stare at the smooth, white ceiling of the room before closing her eyes, forcing herself to ignore the phantom pressure on her stomach, and the icy tendrils of " _something's wrong_ " that tightened in her chest.

It was probably nothing, anyway.

* * *

 **An-** _I decided to reboot this less than a week before I started college. It got a lot of attention the first time I posted it, but I only received one single form, even though many people said they were going to submit. So, I've decided to just repost the story with slight edits to the rules and making it more inclusive. c:_

 ** _Rules_**

 ** _1) Send your OCs through PM only._** _I don't want the reviews cluttered with character bios. Plus, it takes all the fun out of everyone else getting to know your character through the story, so it's just a bad idea._

 ** _2) Detail is appreciated._** _Though it isn't absolutely necessary, detail is very appreciated. I like paragraphs upon paragraphs to read through, and it allows me to portray your character as correctly as humanly possible. Also, if I'm going to put in the time to write the story, I think you should put in the time to make a good character. Don't you? c:_

 ** _3) There are a limited number of spots for characters._** _I'm not sure what that number is yet, but I'm guessing it's going to be around seven, with an even number of males and females. So, yes, a very small number. Adding detail and spending time on your submission allows a much better chance for your character to be accepted. Don't worry if it takes more than one PM to get the character's entire form in._

 ** _4) If your character is accepted, review!_** _I'm not saying you have to review every chapter, but a review every now and again would be nice. Just let me know how I'm doing, correct any mistakes I may make, and stuff like that._

 ** _5) Pertaining to last names..._** _This is quite a bit AU, so_ _your characters can have any last name you want. In fact, I'd love it if you sent in Herondales, Lightwoods, Blackthorns, Fairchilds, Carstairs and the like. This does not mean that they will have any relationship with the characters of the actual books, since the characters of the actual books either do not exist, or will not be brought up at all._

 ** _8) If you have any questions..._** _pm me! Apart from that, just have fun. The form is on my profile, ready to go!_

 _Thanks for reading and God bless you!_

 _Love, Snowy_


	2. Prologue, pt II

Neil hadn't ever really met anyone that he couldn't make feel at home in the Seattle Institute, but Shiloh was different. It was ironic that his blood-related family was the only one he couldn't befriend. It really bothered him, especially because she didn't even want to allow him to help her with her wounds. That was the kind of independence that could really get someone in trouble - especially with the kind of life that Shadowhunters lived. You could die that way.

Choosing to stop thinking about it, he ran his hands through his tousled hair as he got out of bed and blinked sleep from his heavy-lidded eyes. It was only five in the morning, and he hadn't slept at all. His mind was too busy for him to get any real rest, so he figured he might as well go outside for an early morning run.

He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He decided against a shower, because he knew that he'd just be getting sweaty outside, anyway. Or soaking wet, considering this _was_ Seattle, and Seattle was the freaking rainiest place on earth.

 _Except maybe the actual rainforests,_ Neil's sleep-deprived mind decided to remind him. Ridiculously, he found himself nodding in response, then flushed a bright pink at the realization that he was having an actual conversation in his head. He chose to be glad that no one was around to see it, and brushed it off.

He slipped into a pair of sweats and a gray t-shirt, along with some running shoes and, just in case, a few small knives.

You could never be too careful in this life. Many a Shadowhunter had been killed simply because they were underequipped to handle a situation, and Neil had always decided that he would never be one of those Nephilim.

Deciding to chase away those more negative thoughts, Neil set off at a brisk trot down the hallway, heading for the main entrance of the Institute. He made sure to keep his footsteps quiet, however, to make sure that he didn't wake anyone up. Shiloh had been awake nearly all night, as well, and he knew that a lot of the other residents of the Institute were night owls, so he figured it'd be best to just keep the noise down. They'd most likely be up by the time he got back, anyway.

As he approached the front door, a chill ran up his spine, as though someone had just poured ice water over his head.

 _Something definitely isn't right here..._

Every muscle in Neil's body coiled up, and he reached for his Seraph blade that he had slid in between his hip and sweatpants. "Jegudiel," he whispered, taking reassurance as the weapon glowed from the inside and warmed up his palm. With his free hand, he turned the knob on one of the two massive mahogany doors that led out of the Institute.

When the door slid open with a quiet creak, it wasn't immediately evident what caused the icy chills that were still assaulting Neil's spine. The sky was still dark, covered in clouds, and there was no light apart from the glow of Jegudiel in Neil's right hand. It was frigidly cold Surprisingly enough, it wasn't raining or snowing, although the steps were covered in large, dark puddles of water that were likely frozen into ice at this point. That, however, wasn't rare at all in a place like Seattle.

Neil took a very deep, steadying breath, and stepped out the door.

His boot went down into one of the puddles of "water" with a sickening squelch, and it became instantaneously obvious that the puddles were not water at all. Neil dropped into a crouch and shone Jegudiel's faint light upon the mystery liquid, and dipped his finger into it.

The tip of his finger was coated in rust red color.

Blood.

Neil cursed softly and rose back up a bit, his eyes glinting in the light of his Seraph blade as he surveyed the courtyard in front of the Institute for anything that could be lurking around.

There was nothing.

Closing the door behind him as quietly as possible, he padded down the stairs, looking around to see if the blood led anywhere. If there was a trail, he could find whatever - or whoever - it was that was bleeding so intensely. Though it was unlikely that anything could live after losing the amount of blood that was on the steps and in front of the door.

Neil frowned in confusion and knitted his eyebrows together. There was no trail - just a massive pool of blood on the Institute's front steps. It didn't make any sense, unless...

A sickening thought turned Neil's stomach upside down. Slowly, he turned back around and picked up the witchlight he always kept in his pocket. It illuminated brightly in his hand, and he raised it up to the front of the Institute so that he could confirm or deny his suspicions.

"By the Angel..." he breathed in disbelief.

The mahogany doors were slicked down with still-wet blood, and above them hung the body of a Shadowhunter, crucified by its hands and feet. It was wearing a bloodstained white gown, revealing most of its Rune-marked skin.

The body was beheaded.

Initially frozen with horror, it took Neil a moment to realize that there was a piece of paper tacked to a bloodless section of the doors, and he stepped forward to pick it off.

 _For death and mourning,_ it read in neat print at the top of the page, and Neil recognized it as the second line in the old Nephilim children's rhyme. For death and mourning, the color's white. Which would explain why the Nephilim body was dressed in a white gown. It knotted Neil's stomach up in disgust and dread.

He turned the paper over to find the back was written on, as well. This script was messy and took up the entirety of the opposite side of the page, and it was written in dried blood.

 _I wonder what you'll wear in Hell._

* * *

 **An -** _I'll end this here. Part two of the prologue! I felt like it needed a bit more added onto it. I hope you all enjoyed it!_

 _God bless!_

 _Snowy._


	3. Character List

_Character List_

* * *

 **Shiloh Rose Timbervale** \- 17 years old - female - created by **Snow Bender**  
 _Theme Song(s) - Adam Lambert - Runnin'; Marianas Trench - Fallout (CLEAN)  
_ Personality Traits: Quiet, reserved, unemotional, aloof, brave, smart, disguised, hard to get to know, stubborn, wayward, guarded, distanced, scared, self-sufficient, gentle, complicated, deeply loving, damaged

 **Neil Ephraim Timbervale** \- 19 years old - male - created by **Snow Bender**  
 _Theme Song(s) - B.O.B. - No Man's Land; Nickelback - If Today Was Your Last Day  
_ Personality Traits: Heartfelt, friendly, normally kind, giving, intuitive, temperamental, protective, funny, submissive, intelligent, brave, happy-go-lucky, nosy, empathetic, risk-taker

 **Jairo DiLorenzo Lightwood** \- 18 years old - male - created by **WhoopsUserNotFound**  
 _Theme Song(s) - 21 Pilots - Ride; 5SOS - Jet Black Heart  
_ Personality Traits: Intricate, alluring, sarcastic, caring, sweet, innovative, fun, impulsive

 **Wilhelmina Theresa Herondale** \- 21 years old - female - created by **The Fallen Magelet**  
 _Theme Song(s) - Arctic Monkeys - Snap Out of It; Imagine Dragons - On Top of The World  
_ Personality Traits: Prideful, arrogant, intelligent, charming, witty, sarcastic, honest, self-sacrificing, reckless, stubborn, overprotective, honorable, fiery temper, romantic, caring, worrywart, humorous, emotional

 **Blanche Tomás Bellefleur** \- 18 years old - male - created by **Little Knight Mik**  
 _Theme Song(s) - Naughty Boy ft Dan Smith - No One's Here To Sleep; IAMX - Volatile Times  
_ Personality Traits: Outgoing, intense, sarcastic, fickle, carefree, level-headed, loud, humble, whimsical, protective, secretive

 **Jude Reece Lovelace** \- 19 years old - male - created by **The Fallen Magelet**  
 _Theme Song(s) - One Republic - Wherever I Go; Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa, Imagine Dragons - Sucker for Pain  
_ Personality Traits: Confrontational, independent, cunning, unsympathetic, prideful, temperamental, hotheaded, rule-bender, untrusting, fearless, dark humor, stubborn, rebellious, controlling, liar, possessive, hidden kindness

 **Roslyn Temperance Merryweather** \- 17 years old - female - created by **Fairy Lori** (mundane; not yet Ascended)  
 _Theme Song(s) - Aurora - Running with the Wolves; Of Monsters and Men - Wolves Without Teeth_  
Personality Traits: Quiet, meek, awkwardly shy, gentle, strong heart, kind, brave, determined, hard working, emotionally tough, street smart, dreamer, optimistic, lonely, creative, caring, oblivious to romance

 **Lucinda Eloise Morgenstern** \- 20 years old - female - created by **Little Knight Mik**  
 _Theme Song(s) - Hansen - Fired Up; Marion Cotillard and Franz Ferdinand - Eyes of Mars  
_ Personality Traits: Short-tempered, determined, mature, confident, intelligent, sentimental, kind-hearted, helpful, calculating, strong-willed, competitive, protective, reassuring, stubborn, proud, loyal, sisterly

 **Cole Silvestré Hollowbrown** \- 20 years old - male - created by **BoobleLaBooble**  
 _Theme Song(s) - Broods - Conscious; Florence + The Machine - Too Much is Never Enough_  
Personality Traits: Ruthless, quick-tempered, sarcastic, egotistical, contempt, headstrong, unwavering, very opinionated, vain

 **Stephanie Lightwood** \- 19 years old - female - created by **TheCreatorWithBlackHands  
** _Theme Song(s) - 21 Pilots - Not Today; Imagine Dragons - Ready, Aim, Fire  
_ Personality Traits: Kind, loving, unforgiving, non-humourous, smart, skilled, happy, self-conscious, realistic, confident, caring, trustworthy, leader-like, generous.

* * *

 **An -** _I usually don't post a character list for an update, but I've seen a lot of stories do it, and I really like the way it looks._

 _God bless!_

 _Love,_

 _Snowy_


	4. Chapter I

_Shiloh was back in that hated, suffocatingly-small apartment in Idris. Or, well, it was more like she was_ trapped _in that hated, suffocatingly-small apartment in Idris. The Pepto-Bismol-pink walls, the bearskin rug, the white furniture... Her chest was gripped from the inside out by icy, dreadful claws that sped up her heart and made it hard to breathe. Just as it did every time her dreams wanted to take her back to this place - as if she hadn't spent long enough in it already._

 _Alone, naturally. Which was oftentimes preferable to-_

 _"Oh, sweetheart," came a singsong voice from the front of the house. She was gasping at that point, fighting for air that seemed to choose that very moment to vanish from existence. She knew far too well how this dream ended, but she could never wake up of her own accord. She wondered if she even wanted to, if she were being honest with herself. She missed him enough to suffer through this nightmare just to hear his voice - to see his face - once more._

 _A tall, shadowy figure walked in through the kitchen and into the living area, where she was standing rigid in the corner. The figure tensed upon seeing her, and drew a weapon from the waist of its pants._

Shadowhunters don't use guns. _The thought invasively shoved itself into her unconscious mind as the figure raised the pistol at her._

 _"Why don't you love me, Ash?" it whimpered, its brown eyes filled with tears that started to streak jaggedly down its creased face. It was a face that she knew better than her own, and it was breaking her heart a second time. "Why won't you stay with me and Shiloh?"_

 _"I'm not her," she found herself protesting. "I'm not Ashlyn." She couldn't help but think of herself as cursed to look more like the Fallowdown side of her family._

 _The figure shook its head, waving the pistol about haphazardly as it did so. "That's what you always say!" it moaned, reaching its free hand up to caress its temple. It had recently shaved its hair off, so its hand was touching nothing but pale, clear skin._

 _"It's me; it's Shy!" she cried, desperation turning her blood to ice and causing tears to prick her own green-hazel eyes, so different from the brown orbs of the figure before her. "Please, please, you have to recognize me. I love you - I love you so much." Her breath hitched at the end, and she felt one tear trace its way down her cheek._

 _Recognition lit in the figure's eyes, and it looked at the gun it had pointed at its own child - its beloved flesh-and-blood daughter. "I-" it began, looking both confused and ashamed. "I'm sorry, Shiloh. I know who you are."_

 _It was always at that point that Shiloh allowed herself a moment of immense relief, allowed herself the false hope that it might be okay this time._

 _That was, of course, until the figure spoke again. "There are demons inside me," it breathed. And, before Shiloh could react, the figure raised the end of the gun into its own mouth and pulled the trigger, coating those disgusting pink walls with a splatter of vibrant red._

* * *

The gunshot from her dream carried over into reality. Shiloh had been drifting in and out of sleep for the past few hours, and had finally, blissfully fallen completely to rest before a series of gunshot-like bangs sounded from the door to her room, rattling the hinges. It must have been what woke her up. Reacting quickly and without thinking, the young Shadowhunter rolled off the bed, landing in a crouch between it and the wall. She grabbed her familiar Seraph blade swiftly out from under her pillow and whispered its name under her breath. "Cassiel."

Cassiel illuminated her corner of the room with a pleasant blue-white light, and Shiloh rose to her feet silently. The small teen crept silently over to the door and unlocked it, still weilding Cassiel in her left hand. She hesitated only slightly before flinging the door open, pointing her Seraph blade directly at whoever it was that so rudely awakened her.

"Woah, woah, Shiloh. Calm down; it's just me."

The "intruder" was not an intruder at all. Neil's father, Martin, stood in front of her - all six-foot-two of him. Like all Timbervales, he was tall and bulky, and had the signature chocolate brown eyes that he shared with Neil. His hair, too, was light blondish red, like Shiloh's own father's had been, before he sheared it off. Martin, though he was younger than Shiloh's own father, could have been his twin.

It was almost creepy, and brought back a pang of loss in Shiloh's chest that she didn't think would ever go away.

Swiftly lowering Cassiel, Shiloh took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... well, I didn't know who you were, and..." she trailed off, casting her gaze to the floor. There was no way, of course, that she would tell him that he'd woken her from one of her most reoccurring nightmares.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Martin assured her gently, though he wasn't smiling like he usually did. It was rather obvious that not all was well, and Shiloh considered for the first time that there might be a reason that she was being woken up at such an ungodly hour. Apparently, her face must have betrayed her question, because Martin continued, "We are going through and making sure that all of our wards are in the Institute and safe."

"Is something wrong?" Shiloh questioned, her fingers tightening around Cassiel's handle nervously, though she kept her expression stoic and calm.

Martin's lips pressed together and he nodded gravely. "So it would seem. A few minutes ago, a mutilated body of a Nephilim was found outside, crucified above the front doors." Not even Shiloh was able to suppress her surprise at that revelation.

"Do they know who it was?"

"No, we haven't been able to figure it out yet. The body was found decapitated." Martin's warm brown eyes were soft and solemn, with an underlying anger that he kept tightly reigned in. It wouldn't help anything in this situation. "We have yet to find the actual head."

Shiloh's nose wrinkled in distaste and she met Martin's eyes once again. "What do you want us to do right now?" she queried, arching one eyebrow and tilting her head to the side.

"Go about your day as you always would, but use caution. We don't know yet what could have been responsible for the murder of the Shadowhunter outside, so it's imperative that all of you stay as safe as possible," Martin explained, his voice serious and leaving no room for argument. "The older Nephilim and I will be discussing what to do later, but for now we simply want you to stay safe - don't go outside alone, don't go hunting without an adult. That sort of thing."

 _They don't want the younger Nephilim involved just yet,_ Shiloh decided for herself, and begrudgingly, she understood why. This was likely something that would require the assistance of the Clave and Consul, and they didn't want a bunch of half-trained Shadowhunters under their feet and in their way.

"Yes, sir," she said simply and closed the door between them, leaving Martin to head back down the hall the way he'd come. Shiloh's door was the last one on this particular hallway, beside Neil's and across from a closet. There would be no one else to wake up down here, so Martin would have been done checking on all of the younger Shadowhunters.

Shiloh tossed Cassiel onto her bed, forcing her tense shoulders to relax and trying to convince herself that she didn't have anything to fight at the moment.

Still, no matter how much she tried to rationalize the fact that the Institute was warded and guarded and literally everyone was awake now if a problem were to arise, there was a horrible weigh in Shiloh's chest that she just couldn't shake. She reached a hand up to rub at her sternum, feeling her quick pulse underneath her skin. Every instinct she had was going haywire, and she really considered just jumping out the window and taking off on a run to chase away the feeling.

But Martin had said not to go out alone, and Shiloh wasn't really feeling up to breaking any rules at the moment. Especially not any rules that might keep her from getting decapitated and crucified on the Institute's doorstep like whoever was killed last night.

So, she decided to get dressed and head to the training room to blow off some steam. She'd skip breakfast, of course - she really wasn't feeling hungry, anyway, and hadn't been for a while.

It had been about three months, actually. She'd lost about ten pounds since she'd arrived at this Institute.

The wound she'd received the night before throbbed dully, reminding her of its presence. It wasn't open anymore, but it had been deep, and it would take a day or two to heal entirely.

For a moment after she'd dressed, Shiloh just sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the dull gray wall before her intently, as though it held answers to some of her questions. It did not, but one thing was becoming crystal clear.

There was definitely something horribly wrong in this place.

* * *

 **An -** _Hello; it's me again! I can't believe I have another update ready so fast. I think it's because I'm writing such short chapters - I used to write LONG chapters for my SYOC stories, and now I think I'm just going to write 1-3k for each one instead of 4k+ every time. I have to warn you guys, though - I start back to college the day after tomorrow, so I won't be updating as often as this at all._

 _This story has gotten SO much attention over the past few days, and the SYOC is almost full! I'm just waiting on a couple forms to be sent in, and then I'll begin introducing the OCs! I'm so excited - I'm getting so many detailed, diverse characters, and I can't wait to really get the ball rolling on this story._

 _QUESTION - what do you guys want to see go down in this story?_

 _Reviews are, as always, highly valued and appreciated! I don't want to sound like I'm playing favorites or being rude or anything, but the more you review and talk to me about your characters and the story, the more your characters are likely to appear. I'm going to be putting a considerable amount of effort into this story, and I'd like for you guys to work with me. The more you put in, the more you get out of it. You feeling me? c: It's harder to connect with a character if you can't connect with its creator._

 _I could also use some cover art for this story! Does anyone know anybody that can make it?_

 _God Bless you guys!_

 _Love,_

 _Snowy_


	5. Chapter II

_Two days later..._

"Seattle's the worst," remarked a tall, curvaceous young Nephilim woman as she stood near the window in the training room, resting her temple against the glass. Her long blonde hair was braided in the back, reaching down to her knees. Her golden eyes reflected the rain as it fell outside the window, the sky gray and dull as usual. "I miss the sun. Is it ever sunny here?"

"Not really, no," replied Neil, who had recently returned from a short trip to Idris via portal, likely to talk to the Clave about the incident with the deceased Shadowhunter. He'd found out that no one had been able to figure out who it was who had died, and the head had not been located yet.

One of the more dark-humored Shadowhunters of the Institute - a particularly annoying, younger guys that got on Neil's nerves from time to time, named Jude - had made the joke that the head was likely hanging somewhere in the Institute, just waiting to fall down on someone's shoulder as they walked underneath it. Subsequently, he'd frightened poor little Ross - the Institute's resident Ascending mundane, who had been in the Institute for less than a year. Neil had been grateful for a bit of help from Martin to straighten Jude out by having the younger boy take over some of the chores that Roslyn usually did herself. (Not because she was forced to, of course - in fact, she often found that several of the other wards were more than willing to help her out.)

Mostly, though, the wards of the Institute had stopped talking much about the creepy death. Nothing had happened since, and it didn't seem like there was anything dangerous going on around the city.

Just rain.

The blonde woman - Wilhelmina Herondale - groaned in annoyance and turned her displeased gaze over to Neil, and he smiled a bit from where he was leaning against the wall of the training room. He'd actually taken Ross in to train a bit earlier and found Wil brooding over by the window and staring at the sky. At first, he hadn't said anything to her, and had sparred with Roslyn instead - which was a bit difficult with the girl being only five-foot-four and him being a hair over six feet. He didn't mind sparring with almost any girl at the Institute, because they usually had packed on muscle over the years, in spite of their height, but Ross was still rather new to all of this. He didn't want to hurt her by accident.

He'd actually gotten a bit tired after the first ten minutes, chalking it up to his poor sleeping habits of late. He'd been rather exhausted for a while, so he had instructed Ross to go over to the throwing knives while he leaned on the wall to rest up a bit.

Wilhelmina growled a bit, glaring out the window and crossing her arms over her chest. "Rain is disgusting."

"'Well, damn, Jackie! I can't control the weather!'" Neil quoted, smirking a bit in Wil's direction and hoping she would see the quote for what it was - a joke.

The blonde just wrinkled her nose in distaste, obviously in a bad mood, and went back to staring out the window.

"Am I right to assume you're not a fan of Ashton Kutcher?" Seeing no change in the woman's behavior, Neil shrugged and rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "Guess that's a 'no.'"

Roslyn's small, meek voice came from Neil's left, where the young teen was still tossing daggers at the target on the wall. "Um, Neil? I still can't get them to hit the target..." She seemed hesitant to interrupt the mostly one-sided conversation. She was giving Neil a look that kind of reminded him of a kicked puppy, big brown eyes and all.

"That's not a problem," Neil assured her, putting on his most encouraging smile as he approached her and knelt down, picking up one of the knives and bending down a bit so he could see her level. "You see, what I do is use my entire arm when I throw it. I point my fingers in the direction I want it to go, and it'll usually hit. Of course, not every toss is going to hit," he explained, stretching one arm back and tossing the knife at the target. He winced a bit when it hit the outer ring of the foam target, and he shrugged good-naturedly at Ross. "See? Even people who've been doing this their entire lives miss the bullseye. You're doing great."

Roslyn gave him a small, shy smile, and he resisted the urge to ruffle her inky black hair. It was too neat to screw up, pulled back by a bandana to keep it out of her big brown eyes. "Thanks for helping me, Neil."

He waved his hand in dismissal. "No, you don't need to thank me for training. None of the other Nephilim do, so why should you?" he questioned, and went on before she could respond; "Do you feel like going out for something to eat? I'm starving."

The young girl brightened immediately. "I'd love to go out to eat. Do you think maybe Wil and Luce will want to go?" she asked, referring to Wilhelmina and Lucinda, who Neil suspected the mundane admired. And who wouldn't? They were fantastic Nephilim women - people that a young Ascendant would be proud to be like someday.

"Pass," Wilhelmina immediately grouched, and Neil felt a strange disappointment settle itself in his chest.

He shook it off quickly and nodded to Ross. "I'm sure Luce would love to go." Lucinda was just as, if not more, fond of Roslyn than Roslyn was of Lucinda. Like Neil, she'd really taken an interest in the young mundane. Probably more so. "How about you go find her? I'll wait here, okay?"

Ross was more than happy to go find the older woman, and Neil took a few moments before he turned to look at Wil. "It gets better, you know. If you embrace it. I know you haven't been here long, but if you just let yourself, you could learn to love it here." He paused for a moment before raising one eyebrow in her direction. "You know, I know a place where you can get some excellent hot chocolate, and they smother it in whipped cream. That'll help any rainy day, don't you think?"

Wil turned beautiful tawny eyes over to Neil, and he wasn't surprised to find a bit of sadness swimming in them. It vanished quickly, however, when the young woman's plump lips turned up in a smile. "That doesn't sound too bad," she responded, and Neil inwardly cheered at his small victory as she walked over to him. "Is it too late to change my mind about going out to eat with you guys?"

"Not at all," he replied, opening the door to the training room for her to walk out into the hallway. "Though you might need to ask Ross."

"Ask me what?" Roslyn asked, trotting up with Lucinda in tow. The other raven-haired woman dwarfed the young mundane in size, standing in at about half a foot taller.

Wilhelmina wasted no time in dropping down on one knee before Ross and took her hand. "Will you do me the honor of going out with me?" she asked dramatically, covering her earlier blunder with humor, and the group of four immediately burst into laughter.

Yes, Neil thought. Perhaps all he needed was some quality time with good people.

* * *

 **An -** _Firstly, I wanted to thank all of you so much for all of your support! I've never felt this connected to the people who've submitted to any story I've written before like I feel connected with you guys, and I hope so badly that I do all of your characters justice, and I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it and talking to you. I can't believe how kind you've all been!_

 _Secondly, I still need some of the opinions of your characters. I can't write them into the chapter without them._

 _Thirdly, I apologize for the curse word - this story won't have much cursing at all, but that quote was too funny and perfect for the moment that I couldn't resist. Also, yes, Neil loves old sitcoms. That 70's Show, King of Queens, Friends, etc._

 _Fourthly, let me know what you think! I need your feedback._

 _UPDATE: I forgot to put in that The Fallen Magelet has made me two amazingly gorgeous covers. I will be splitting this story idea into two parts. I'll be using the first cover, with the red-eyed dog on it, in the first story, because that will become relevant later on in this story. The first part will deal with the "Hunted" part of the title. The second part, where I will be using the second cover, will deal with the "Haunted" part of the title. How does that sound?_

 _I love you guys! God bless you all, and I hope you have the best day ever._

 _Love,_

 _Snowy_


	6. Chapter III

_The same day..._

Stephanie had been a part of the Seattle Institute for the longest out of all of the current wards, aside from Neil. She'd been there for seven years, and it had well and truly become her second home. She knew the grayscale walls and monochrome interior like the back of her hand, and she had grown to love most of the people that lived there.

One of the particular people that she had truly clicked with was her distant relative, Jairo Lightwood, who had joined the residents of the Seattle Institute two years ago. The two didn't really look much alike, though they were both pretty, like most Lightwoods had been in the past. Stephanie had long black hair and green eyes, Jai had messy brown hair and green eyes - likely representing the particular people they'd each descended from. Jai was also an entire foot taller than Stephanie, standing in at six-foot three and she at five-foot-three - they were the tallest and shortest people in the Institute, respectfully. (They only knew this definitively because Jai and Neil had measured themselves around a year ago, and Jai had been a couple of centimeters taller than the other teen. The difference between Stephanie and the other girls was by no less than an inch, so precise measurements had not been necessary.)

The two were currently walking side-by-side together down the hall toward the kitchen to get something to eat for lunch, as midday was approaching and Gertrude Timbervale would likely be making something delicious to eat for the people who hadn't gone out to get food already.

"So what do you make of the dead Shadowhunter they found?" Stephanie asked Jairo curiously, tilting her head back to look her distant cousin in the eye.

Jai shrugged one shoulder, glancing down at her. "I'm not sure, to be honest. They haven't really told us much, y'know?"

Stephanie nodded. She did know. Apart from Martin explaining at five-thirty in the morning after he'd woken them all up to make sure everyone was okay two days prior, not much had really been said. Neil had gone to Idris to explain what exactly it was that he'd found - likely under the influence of the Mortal Sword - and all he'd told them was that they hadn't been able to identify the body yet.

"It's weird that the person killed wasn't from this Institute, isn't it?" she queried.

"Yeah. It's pretty odd that someone would go through all the effort to kill someone and drag their body all the way over here. The closest Institute is all the way in California, so it'd be a long way to take someone." Jairo scratched the back of his neck. "Unless, of course, someone was passing through here at some point, but that's unlikely. And even then, wouldn't someone from another Institute have called to tell us that one of their own had come to Seattle after they heard of the death?"

Stephanie raised her eyebrows slightly. It was weird that Jairo would share so much of what he was thinking on a serious subject like that. He normally just joked around and brushed problems off as though they were nothing, so it just went to show how bad things around here were truly getting. All of the Nephilim in the Seattle Institute were taking this seriously.

Apart from maybe Jude and Cole, who didn't even seem to care that it was happening at all. Cole just seemed detached from the whole situation, whereas Jude had made quite a few dark, offensive jokes about everything.

It was quite annoying.

Stephanie never got the chance to respond to Jairo's voiced thoughts, because - speak of the devils - as soon as they rounded the corner to get to the dining area, Cole's voice exploded from up ahead,

"If you hadn't shoved your feet up on the _freaking_ table, I wouldn't have spilled my coffee!"

" _How_ did my feet cause you to spill your drink?! You're at least ten feet away from me!" Jude snarled back. The two hotheads of the Institute were sitting on opposite ends of the dining table, one on each corner. Or, well, Cole was standing, with his hands planted firmly on the light pine surface of the table, and Jude was leaning his chair back on its two hind legs, his booted feet still atop the table and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Because it vibrated when your heels hit it! Are you an idiot?!"

Jude's jaw twitched a bit, showing how furious he was getting. " _I'm_ not the idiot here."

Cole looked like he was about to pounce, reaching one hand up to rake it through his messy black hair, and Jude's muscles were coiled, his green eyes intense behind his soft brown curls as he stared at the other man. It was as though one was just waiting for the other to move.

There was a large puddle of black coffee in front of Cole, dripping onto the patterned rug below.

Stephanie and Jairo shared an exasperated look. Ever since Cole had arrived at the Institute several months ago, these types of arguments had become a near-daily occurrence. Cole and Jude were just too much alike - far too confrontational, temperamental, and prideful - to be alone in the same room _without_ fighting.

Deciding to step in before things got too violent, Stephanie puffed her chest out and walked forward to put her own hand on the table. She cleared her throat to get their attention, as neither had looked up or even acknowledged her approach in any way.

When they still didn't even glance at her, Stephanie simply raised her voice. "You two need to knock it off! You're adults - shouldn't you be able to act like it?" she demanded.

There was a beat of silence, and then:

"You," Cole began, turning his glare from Jude and jamming a finger toward Stephanie, his honey brown eyes narrow and dangerous, "have no right to tell me what to do, you tiny, insignificant _child_." He put emphasis on the final word, almost as though it was a curse.

Jude took his feet off the table and stared at Stephanie, looking equally as furious as Cole. "This has nothing to do with you. You do realize that you don't have to stick your stuck-up little nose where it doesn't belong every time you see the opportunity, don't you? 'Cause it's really freaking annoying - nobody gets to boss me around."

Anger sparked in Stephanie's chest. "I am not a child, and I don't _'stick my nose where it doesn't belong'_!"

But the two men had started their yelling match back up, and neither paid any attention to her which only served to annoy her that much further. She truly hated these two.

"Why won't they listen to me?" Stephanie demanded to herself, and was surprised to get a response.

"It's because you're using your 'mom voice' on them." She turned to find Blanche standing a step or two behind her. The tall, white-blond young man had a tiny smirk on his lips, his dimples showing just a tad. Stephanie arched an eyebrow, so Blanche decided to elaborate. "You tried to tell them what to do. You sounded like you were trying to be their mom. They don't like that - in fact, nobody does."

"You think you can do any better?" she demanded, crossing her arms in frustration.

Blanche gave her a toothy grin, his dimples at full-force and his dark gray eyes bright. "As a matter of fact, yes, I do. Watch and learn."

He trotted forward and hopped up so that he could sit on the table and leaned back onto one arm, his mane of pale hair bouncing a bit as he did so. Stephanie noted that he planted himself directly in the middle of Cole and Jude. "Heya, guys," he greeted brightly.

"What do _you_ want?" Jude rumbled dangerously, his eyes narrowed into slits. "Don't you have to be annoying somewhere else?"

The younger Shadowhunter rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, I do. But right now, Gertrude sent me in to tell you all that the sandwiches are done and you can go fix your plates." He patted his stomach. "They're delicious, by the way. I've had two. Also, it seems like you've spilled your coffee. She's also brewed a new pot of that, so you don't have to worry about running out."

Cole and Jude sent each other one last hostile glare before apparently both realized that they were hungry, and decided to drop the issue - at least for the moment.

"This conversation isn't over," Cole muttered as he passed Jude, who rose slowly from his chair.

"Oh, not by a long shot," came the brunet's response, and the two vanished into the kitchen.

Stephanie's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as Blanche bounced off of the table and strode over to her. "How did you manage to pull that off?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"It's a secret," Blanche replied in a singsong tone and gave her a wink. "One of my many talents. Oh, and I wasn't lying, by the way - those sandwiches were delicious. You and Gyro-sphere over here should go get something to eat." He motioned over at Jairo when he called him the ridiculous nickname.

Jairo exhaled through his nose in amusement - having known Blanche for two years, he was used to such atrocious nicknames - and smiled at the other Nephilim. "Sounds like a plan. We're pretty hungry, aren't we, Stephanie?"

"Yeah," she muttered, raising her gaze to meet Blanche's eyes. "You will teach me that trick later."

Blanche's eyebrows shot up and he snorted with a smirk. "There's that voice again," he said simply, and turned to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Jairo asked, tipping his head over to the side and watching as their companion trotted off.

"I also wasn't lying when I said I had to go be annoying somewhere else. I'll be back later," Blanche responded, turning around to walk backwards while he spoke.

"Keep a lookout for anything dangerous! Whatever killed that Shadowhunter might still be out there," Stephanie called. She almost told him that he shouldn't go by himself, but even she could acknowledge the fact that Blanche was an adult and could go wherever he liked by himself.

Blanche rolled his eyes and turned around so that he was walking forward once more. He waved one hand in the air. "Yes, _Mother_!" he quipped, before rounding the corner and vanishing from sight.

Stephanie sighed heavily before putting her hands on her hips and turning to face Jairo. "You were literally no help at all with Cole and Jude," she accused, narrowing her bright green eyes at her distant cousin.

"I wanted to see how you would handle them," Jairo told her with a wink. "Besides, I didn't want to fight on an empty stomach, and it really wasn't any of my business, so... yeah."

Steph rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Whatever. Let's just go get something to eat," she offered, brushing past him to head into the kitchen.

"Yes, _Mother_ ," Jairo teased as he followed, and Stephanie promptly punched him in the arm.

* * *

 **An -** _I thought we needed some more lighthearted chapters after that horrible prologue! XD It's gonna be dark again very, very soon - likely next chapter, or the one afterward. I'm actually really surprised at how well all of these characters fit into the story, and how well I can envision the sequence of events that I want the plotline to contain._

 _This chapter was easier to write than the last chapter, and it's the first from an OC's POV! And it's LONGER! You got to meet the rest of the cast in this one. I adore every character I've been given - you guys are absolutely, unbelievably incredible! I can't believe how helpful and kind you've all been. Seriously. You have absolutely NO idea how much it all means to me._

 _I've appreciated each and every review I've received, and I look forward to more in the future. They really help me find the motivation to write, and if I can keep putting out chapters like this, we could have this story finished relatively quickly, as opposed to some of the SYOCs out there (and the many of mine that have been scrapped because I either forgot where I was going with the story or the readers stopped reviewing and I just lost interest completely.)_

 _So, let me know your thoughts! I also may start doing what I did in the first part of the prologue and list the date above each chapter, if you guys think that's a good idea._

 _QUESTION: Who are your favorite characters so far? I know I haven't given all of them ample screentime for you to know each of them adequately, but give me your first thoughts._

 _I also barely re-read these chapters, and they're un-Beta'd, so please let me know if you see any mistakes/misspellings/words used multiple times/etc._

 _I love you guys! God bless you,_

 _Snowy_


	7. Chapter IV

Blanche was not at all new to the Seattle Institute, having moved in nearly four years ago. Back, of course, when it was only Neil and Stephanie that he had the option of being associated with. Over time, more wards had moved in, but Blanche hadn't truly "befriended" anyone in the truest sense of the word. He didn't trust any of them; didn't feel comfortable enough to be his true self around them.

So, he put up a facade - a sort of projected self that he could use around the others inside the Institute. The less the others knew about him, the better. He'd do everything he could to keep the conversation away from him and his personal life, and instead just amuse and entertain the others before he would leave the Institute and hang out with some of Seattle's Downworlders instead. He wasn't that a big fan of Shadowhunters, anyway.

But all of that started to change when she arrived at the Institute late last Fall.

* * *

 _Four months ago..._

 _October 7th, 2015  
11:27 am  
_

 _They'd been getting a lot of new Shadowhunters recently, Blanche lamented as he lounged in a little living area across from the main entrance of the Institute. He'd been asked by Gertrude specifically to wait for the new ward to get there. She would've done it herself, or asked someone else to do it, but the other members of the Institute were either busy (for example, Martin had gone to Idris for family reasons) or simply too standoffish to welcome someone inside and actually make them comfortable (such as Cole and Jude, who were both rather new to the Institute themselves.)_

 _Apparently, Blanche was the best one for the job._

 _He'd been told to be careful with this new ward - apparently, they had just been through a traumatic experience (like most of the Institute's current residents) and had been required to be sent here after their father had passed away. They hadn't elaborated any more than that._

 _It didn't really matter, though. Blanche didn't mind welcoming the new person - having been through a traumatic experience or two himself, he understood that he or she might need a little extra care._

 _Blanche didn't have to wait too long before a small, timid knock came from the two large, mahogany doors across the hall._

 _The blond hopped to his feet and put on his best, most welcoming smile before he trotted over and opened the door in a grand, sweeping gesture. "Welcome to the Seattle Institu-"_

 _He cut off abruptly. The sight of who was standing at the door momentarily swept him back to his childhood - of Idris; of a tiny, brunette girl with bright green-gold eyes; of hot chocolate and riding through the forest on horseback; of the previously mentioned tiny, brunette girl clocking some jerk in the face for saying the wrong thing to Blanche or his twin; of laughter and tears; of simultaneously some of the best and some of the worst memories of his life._

 _That girl was no longer quite so tiny, though she still only came up to about Blanche's chest. Her hair was damp and curling slightly at the ends from the humidity - it was cold and drizzly at the moment; not downpouring, thank the Angel. Her eyes - that same green-gold - shot up from where they were staring at her feet as soon as she heard Blanche's voice, and they flashed with recognition. The right one was swollen and a bit purplish green - the tail end of a black eye - and they were both wet with something more than just the rain._

 _The two spent a moment in shock, just staring at each other._

 _Shiloh regained her senses first, wiping her wrist over her eyes and sniffing a bit before offering him a tiny smile that seemed genuinely relieved, albeit laced with sorrow and misery - Blanche was reminded from somewhere in the back of his mind that her father_ had _just died - and spoke: "If someone had told me you'd be the one to answer the door, I probably would've called them a liar." It was little more than a whisper. Her voice sounded horrible - scratchy, weighed down, and hoarse._

 _Blanche swallowed and returned the smile. "If someone had told me you'd be the one knocking, I would've called them crazy," he replied, stepping back in order to allow her room to walk inside. "You look like you're going to freeze to death out there," he commented, feeling his eyebrows knit together in concern despite the fact that he was still smiling. He was happy to see her, regardless of the circumstances._

 _Shiloh wrinkled her nose and let out a tiny sound that sounded like it could've been a chuckle, if there was more effort put into it. She truly just didn't seem like she had the energy. She accepted his invitation and crossed the threshold, placing the small bag that she held in her left hand on the floor and rubbing her damp hands together._

 _Both stood in silence for a few moments; neither knew what to say. Blanche took a moment to scan her over for any injuries aside from the black eye - Shiloh was always particularly good at getting into fights - and found that she was dressed in a simple long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and slip-on shoes, no coat, and her hair was oily, as though she hadn't had a shower in a few days. There was a fleck or two of blood a behind her ear, but it looked long-since dried - nothing fresh. He took it to mean that she wasn't actually hurt, and he was relieved for that much, at least._

 _After a few moments of silence, Blanche decided to (stupidly) ask, "Are you okay?" He'd been referring to her emotional state rather than her physical health, but judging from the reason she was here at all, she was the furthest thing from 'okay' one could get._

 _Shiloh did that weird chuckle thing again and sighed heavily, but didn't respond to the question. Instead, she cleared her throat and raised her eyes to meet his. "Can you show me where I'm supposed to stay? I'm really tired."_

 _"Of course," he replied and almost offered to carry her stuff, but was reminded of the many times a tiny Shiloh had practically screeched that she could "do it herself!" and decided to let her lift the single bag while he started off down the hallway, in the direction of the room they had set aside for her._

 _The walk to her room was silent, but just before she walked into the room, Shiloh brushed her shoulder against his arm and gave him a tiny, but genuine, smile._

 _"I'm glad you're here, Blanche."_

 _Blanche reciprocated the smile and bumped his arm against hers as she passed in response._

 _"Yeah... me, too."_

* * *

 _February 3rd, 2016  
12:30 am  
Present Day_

Shiloh and Blanche had gradually become closer after that day. They'd spent six or seven years together when they were children in Idris, after all, so in spite of the circumstances, it was very nice to be together again. Shiloh was the one person in the entire Institute that Blanche would even consider a friend, and she'd told him that much about him, too.

She'd changed a lot from when they were kids, but she was still the same in many ways. Perhaps not around everyone else, but with him, she didn't feel that she needed to hide who she was quite as much.

But the truth was that he'd changed quite a bit, as well.

Blanche had learned to cope with this new Shiloh. He knew to avoid talking about her father, and he had learned not to sneak up on her or raise his voice or make too many sudden movements - each of the latter three would cause her to flinch as though she expected to be hit (and Blanche expected that she did) while the first would just make her clam up entirely.

Shiloh had also learned to deal with the new Blanche: don't ask too many questions, don't push him for information, don't judge - just take him as he was.

And they were both grateful for one another.

"You don't have to go with me, you know. I go out at night by myself all the time," Shiloh was saying as the two of them slipped out into the courtyard in front of the Institute. It wasn't raining at all, but it was rather cold out. They were both wearing jackets to fend off the chill.

Blanche scoffed in response, looking up at the overcast sky and the crescent moon peeking out behind the clouds. "As an adult, I can't allow you, a mere child, to leave the Institute by yourself in such troubling times as these," he stated dramatically, and smiled when Shiloh rolled her eyes in an equally-dramatic fashion.

Shiloh often snuck out at night - though Blanche was pretty sure that only he and Neil knew about it. Neil because his room was right beside Shy's, and because he was a worrywart who couldn't leave well enough alone, and Blanche because Shiloh sometimes came to his room at night and asked him to go with her.

Blanche also didn't really like the thought of her alone out here anyway - mostly because she had a knack for getting herself injured when he didn't go with her.

He didn't know who it was she was picking a fight with. Probably demons, but you never really knew with her.

The blond frowned as his eyes were drawn to the backpack that Shiloh toted on her back. He almost questioned her as to what was in it, but thought better of it.

The two walked in silence for a while, up until they reached a bunch of cars parked on the side of the road and Shiloh hopped on top of one of them, her black combat boots making little-to-no sound on the slippery metal. She walked like a cat from one car to the next, leaving bootprints in the frost that laid over the vehicles. Some poor mundanes would be very confused in the morning when they saw the conditions of their cars, Blanche thought in amusement.

"Where are we going?" Blanche called up ahead, raising one eyebrow as Shiloh spun on her heel on the hood of one of the poor cars underneath her. She'd lost a lot of weight since she'd arrived at the Institute, Blanche noted. Maybe they could go get something substantial for her to eat later.

"To the library," she replied simply, then turned back around to hop off of the hood and onto the pavement in one swift, graceful movement. "Then maybe just a walk."

Once again, Blanche decided not to question her about why the heck anyone would want to go to a library at nearly one in the morning. Instead, he just trotted a bit to catch up with her, and the two of them headed downtown.

They reached the library rather quickly, and Shiloh pulled her backpack off and extracted four sizeable books from within it. Each one was titled:

 _Causes and Treatment of Common Mental Illnesses._

 _List of Uncommon Mental Illness._

 _How to Know if your Loved One is Mentally Ill._

 _Recognizing the Signs of Schizophrenia._

"What's all that?" Blanche asked. He wasn't normally one to pry, but the titles of the books were unsettling, at the least.

Shiloh didn't respond. Instead, she slid each book into the 24-hour-drop-box outside the library and flung the backpack over her shoulder once again. "Ready to go?" she asked tightly, meeting his eyes with a small glare as though she were challenging him to ask again.

Blanche sighed and shrugged. "Whenever you are, I suppose," he replied, waiting for her to move so that he could follow.

Regret flashed in Shiloh's eyes and she cast her gaze to the ground before walking over to him and brushing the back of her hand against his own fingers. Blanche decided to take it for what it was - an apology. Shiloh had never been particularly good with words, so instead of expressing affection verbally, she'd been more prone to hugging, holding hands, and sitting extra close as a child with all of her loved ones. Now, though, it was simple things, like brushing against people or even allowing herself to be touched, since that was not a common occurrence anymore.

Blanche knocked his knuckles against hers in return, and started off after her down the sidewalk.

They'd only gone about half a block before Shiloh froze and Blanche bumped into her from behind. "Oof! What the heck, Shy?" he demanded, and she turned to glance at him.

"Do you smell something? Like a fire?"

As soon as she asked, Blanche became aware of the scent - it was strong, smoky; like brimstone. It was a horrible smell.

A heartbeat afterward, a chilling howl split the air. It was unlike any howl Blanche had ever heard - unlike the werewolves that sometimes ran around Seattle at night, unlike the housedogs that howled in France, and unlike the coyotes in the forest in Alicante near the Bellefleur manor that he'd often heard as a child. It was also impossible to tell where it had come from, considering the fact that it sounded like it was all around them at once.

Shiloh already had her Seraph blade in her hand, and Blanche was more than grateful that he'd remembered to bring his bow and arrow with him. He pulled it off his back and put an arrow in place. He then twisted around, pressing his back against Shiloh's so that he could keep an eye in the opposite direction.

The streetlights around them fizzled out, and the clouds above them split apart to reveal the crescent moon in the sky. It had changed color from earlier - before it had been a soft, pale white, and now it was as red as blood, casting its offensive light down upon the city.

Then, in the next moment, everything went dark. It was as though every ounce of light in the world had somehow vanished. Blanche felt Shiloh press harder against him, a slight tremor in her shoulders.

Out of nowhere, a low, doglike growl started up, and this time it was easier to tell where it was coming from. Blanche could hear it walking, its claws sharp against the concrete and its footsteps slow and deliberate as it approached them. It started circling them in a wide arc, but from time to time, Blanche could see red eyes flash in the darkness.

It soon became obvious that there was not only one creature to contend with, because suddenly two pairs of vivid, glowing red eyes shone at Blanche from up ahead.

Apparently, whatever this creature was, it did not travel alone.

The two Nephilim stood like that for a few seconds that felt like eternity, both barely able to breathe as the demonic beasts circled them, before Shiloh suddenly cried out in pain and her weight disappeared from his back, as though she'd been ripped away from him.

Blanche spun around, and his eyes widened when he spotted Shiloh on her knees on the pavement before a massive, Mastiff-looking creature with glowing red eyes and fire sparking from underneath its paws. Her forearm was clamped in between its jaws; it had already torn through her jacket and shirt, and her skin was bubbling up from where the beast's teeth were burning her. Her Seraph blade lay on the ground a few feet away.

Without thinking, he pulled back his bow and let his arrow fly. It, of course, met its mark - right into the doglike thing's shoulder - but instead of embedding itself in muscle and flesh, it just passed through as though the dog were made of smoke. The creature's body drifted apart like mist, allowing the arrow to pass through, and closed back up.

The dog snarled around Shiloh's arm and twisted to the side to toss the smaller Shadowhunter to the side. She went tumbling into the empty street, momentarily too dazed to move.

Blanche cursed as the dog barked sharply and he felt something overwhelmingly hot and wet lap at his left hand, where he'd let it fall after he'd let the arrow fly. It was akin to the feeling of pouring boiling water on one's skin, and Blanche was positive his hand blistered immediately. He sucked in a sharp breath and twisted to try and see what had touched him.

There were at least three other doglike beasts behind him, and all looked different - there was one that looked like an Irish Wolfhound, one that looked like an Akita, and the one closest to him - the one that must have burned him - that looked like a German Shepherd. They were all blacker than he'd ever thought black could be, and each was absolutely massive.

The German-Shepherd-esque one snarled and moved to snap at Blanche's leg.

Metal glinted in the firelight as Shiloh leaped to intercept the creature. She had what appeared to be a silver dagger in her hand, and though she hit the dog across the face with it, it simply passed through, as though the dog were made of liquid.

Apparently surprised at the attack, the dog jumped back, its ears perked and its head tilted to the side.

"Move!" Shiloh demanded, shoving Blanche toward the alley on their left.

He certainly didn't need to be told twice; he bolted immediately, with Shy hot on his heels, and the dogs just behind her.

The alley was, fortunately, narrow, so the Nephilim had an advantage there. The dogs were well-coordinated, but they were large enough to have a problem keeping up with the two Shadowhunters, because one would try to break ahead from the others, and they'd end up stuck for a moment or two.

Blanche and Shiloh finally reached the end of the alley, and though it was dark, Blanche's eyes had adjusted well enough to the lack of light in order to spot the tiny small gap in the wall between two of the buildings that very well might be their only hope of survival.

He grabbed Shiloh's wrist and pulled her quickly after him. It was hard to fit both of them into the nook, but they managed, with Blanche pressed up against the wall in the back and Shiloh pressed against him. The dogs were right behind them - they slammed into the wall, and Shy all but yelped when one of them managed to get its muzzle into the nook and snap at her feet. She took the opportunity to kick at its nose, shouting a few explicit words that would have made a sailor blush, before pulling her feet back as close as they could get to her.

The demonic beasts growled and snarled right outside their hiding place, occasionally trying to shove their massive heads in.

Blanche recoiled at a sudden pale blue light, cursing softly, and blinked a few times to realize that Shiloh had pulled a small witchlight out of her pocket to illuminate the tiny space.

"I forgot I had this," she commented shakily, her face pale and lips cracked and dry. There was a smear of blood across her cheek, and Blanche suddenly remembered the doglike creature biting and burning her arm.

"Hey, I need to take a look at you," he stated firmly, shifting around so that the two of them were situated and he could look at her arm in the dim light. He took her wrist and winced a little at the sight of the mangled skin around her forearm, bloody and black around the edges where it was burned. Some of it was already peeling off, but since Blanche wasn't sure what these creatures were, he didn't know if an iratze would cut it. He also wasn't sure if he could twist around enough to reach his stele and draw one on her.

"It's fine," Shy whispered, her eyes half-lidded. She looked exhausted. "We can take care of it later, okay? Are you hurt?"

Blanche shook his head and scoffed, ignoring the burning pain in his hand. "I'm not hurt. You're the one who's hurt."

"Am not," she argued petulantly, and closed her eyes fully. "I think I want to go to sleep, though," she mumbled, slurring her words a bit toward the end of her sentence.

The older Nephilim had to admit that he wasn't feeling all that awake himself, which was strange, considering that they'd been in a heated fight not three minutes ago and there were still massive doglike beasts pacing outside their hiding place. He felt as though he should have adrenaline coursing through him, but all he felt was sleepy.

"We should stay awake," he murmured, but it was no use. He could already feel Shiloh's head resting on his chest and hear her breath, even and steady, to signal that she was fully asleep.

The last thing Blanche remembered seeing before sleep overtook him was the dimming glow of the witchlight in Shiloh's slack hand.

* * *

 **An -** _The longest chapter to date! I am not sure how I feel about this one. It went differently than I had it planned out. But over 3.5k words! And it's darker than the last couple; I wanted to get this story back into the genre it's supposed to be._

 _Also, I'm sorry that the intense scene with the dog-things was horrible. I'm bad at fighting scenes._

 _Let me know what you guys think! Reviews are the best thing ever for a writer. Oh, and tell me what you think those creatures were! It's probably obvious._

 _I love you guys, and God bless!_

 _Snowy_


	8. Chapter V

_( **WARNING:** slightly disturbing dream sequence. Involves child abuse.)_

* * *

 _Shiloh always knew, somewhere in her mind, that these were just dreams - or, well, memories masquerading as dreams. She'd gotten them almost every night since her father had died; it was like every horrible memory of him came back, all at once, which made it harder for her to remember the good about him while she was awake._

 _She had loved her father - she still did. It was just hard, sometimes, when you didn't particularly know which side of your father was going to come home at night._

 _Shiloh was smaller in this dream; she could tell by the way her head didn't even reach the cabinets in the kitchen. She had been a shrimp up until she turned thirteen or so - she spent most of her life under five feet tall, which was hilarious because both of her closest friends - the Bellefleurs - and her father were quite tall._

 _Her father stood in at over six feet, and he loomed over her as she tried to shrink into herself in order to stay as far away from him as she possibly could. Her lower lip was numb and there was blood dripping from her nose and chin already; she didn't want any more damage done._

 _"Daddy, please, quit it," a tiny, squeakier version of her voice came out of her mouth, begging her dad to stop._

 _He didn't._

 _"Demon!" he roared, drawing his fist back and slamming it across her cheek, knocking her head back against the wooden bar of their kitchen. "My daughter died in the fire! What are you and where is my wife?!"_

 _Shiloh let out a few gasping sobs, placing her hand on her already-swelling cheek. "Mama died in the fire; I'm not a demon! Please stop, Daddy!"_

 _"Shut up! You liar!" snarled her father as he drew his hand back to slap her once more. "Ashlyn isn't dead! You're dead!"_

 _She dropped to the floor to protect herself, drawing her arms over her head and attempting to curl up into the smallest ball possible. Sobs were shaking her tiny body; she was far too scared to speak anymore. She wanted Fabian, she wanted Rose, she wanted Blanche - she wanted_ out _of this place._

 _Her father suddenly stopped hitting her, and drew back, panting slightly. When he spoke, his voice had taken on a different tone._

 _"Shiloh."_

 _Hopeful, the little girl turned her gaze up, tears streaming down her bruised cheeks._

 _The last moment of her dream was a vision of a massive hand reaching down to wrap around her throat._

* * *

There was pressure on her shoulder and collarbone, and Shiloh opened her eyes to find that she was still in her dream. A tall, red-haired man with brown eyes loomed over her. Her father had his hand on her neck, and was about to try and strangle her - just like before.

" _Stop!_ " she cried, attempting to jump backward and tumbling off the small bed and onto the pristine white-tiled flooring below. Pain lanced up her back and arm, and she cringed, scrambling backward - her half-asleep and pain-ridden brain unable to make any sense of the situation at the moment. "Don't!"

The man leaned over the bed, his chocolate brown eyes wide and concerned. As she slowly came to full consciousness, she could see the subtle hints of darker brown in his eyes, the slightly thinner lips, and the longer nose. It wasn't her father. It was only Martin.

"Are you alright?" his deep, tenor voice rumbled gently, as if he were afraid that if he raised it any louder, it would frighten her further.

Looking around and licking her dry lips, Shiloh could tell that the room she woke in was not her kitchen in Idris, but instead the infirmary at the Seattle Institute. There was white gauze wrapped around her arm, from her wrist to her elbow, where the demon dog had bitten her.

Sudden panic overwhelmed her when she realized she couldn't see if Blanche was in the room from her position behind her bed, and she leapt to her feet to find the white-haired Shadowhunter perched on the edge of his own bed, worry evident in his expression. His hand was wrapped in gauze, with each finger individually coated in the stuff.

Embarrassment burned through Shiloh when she realized that there were hot tears in her eyes, and she immediately scrubbed her wrist across them to rid them of the wetness. "Sorry; I'm fine," she muttered in response and headed toward the door with every intention of leaving the room. Unfortunately, Martin had other plans. The redhead gripped her forearm - he didn't grab tightly, but after her dream, Shiloh did not want to be touched at all. She snatched her hand away and spun around defensively. "Leave me alone," she snarled, putting every ounce of venom into her voice as possible.

"Shiloh, we need to talk about what happened to you and Blanche last night," Martin stated calmly, his dark brown eyes soft and gentle. "Please have a seat."

Shiloh gritted her teeth and took a few deep breaths to try and calm her racing heart and shaking body. She gave him a tight nod and pointedly strode over to take a seat on the end of Blanche's bed. Her white-haired friend scooted subtly closer to her, and she forced herself to relax a little.

 _It was just a dream. Just a dream._

Martin crouched in the floor before the two younger Shadowhunters and cleared his throat. "Are either of you aware of what you encountered last night?"

His question was met with two matching shakes of the head in the negative.

"Have the two of you ever heard of Hellhounds?" Martin questioned, and this time they both nodded. The redhead took a deep breath and made eye contact with first Shiloh, then Blanche. "I believe that is what the two of you encountered last night."

Blanche raised an eyebrow dubiously. "I didn't think Hellhounds existed."

"Oh, they certainly do. Blanche, according to what you've told me about last night's events, the untouchable bodies, red eyes, the smell, the burns, the bitemarks... it makes sense."

"Does it now," Shiloh deadpanned, trying to get across with every ounce of tone and body language that she did not want to be present for this conversation. "Mind sharing any more about it?"

Martin looked at her and responded patiently, "Not only have I studied all sorts of mythical beings out of simple interest in the subject, I have seen what Hellhounds can do firsthand. I know that they are generally under command by some sort of higher being - a Greater demon, or perhaps an ambitious warlock - and are sent out with a target in mind. I know that their saliva is toxic and causes those inflicted to fall into a coma, and I know that the only thing to remedy that is tea made from wolfsbane and holy water. I know that you were both infected by Hellhound saliva, and that my wife and I had to forcefeed you and Blanche both that tea all through the night last night." He pointed at Shiloh's arm. "We've also been treating your burns with holy water, and it seems to be working."

Shiloh looked away and felt her face heat up a bit. "Thank you," she murmured, feeling bad for her earlier behavior.

"It's my job," Martin replied with a warm smile, his eyes soft and unbelievably gentle as he looked at the two young Nephilim. "You should be fine now, but we'll be keeping an eye on your wounds for a few days. But now we know we need to be extremely careful about going out at night for the time being."

She felt Blanche move beside her and heard him chuckle a bit, obviously trying to ease the tension in the room. "As if we needed another reason to be cautious out there, after the dead body Neil found the other day."

Martin sighed deeply through his nose and offered him a nod. "We're still looking into that. We have an idea of who it might be, but we're trying to keep that information classified until we know for sure," he informed them, standing up and taking a deep breath. "For now, the two of you should go get something to eat and relax. You'll probably feel lethargic for a few days."

"We'll take it easy," Blanche told him with his trademark smile.

After Martin left the room, Shiloh and Blanche sat in what she believed to be an awkward silence until Blanche snorted.

"What the hell?"

And then, as a sort of kneejerk reaction, Shiloh smirked and responded, "Hellhounds. That the hell."

Blanche chuckled and rolled his eyes. "It would be our luck that we go out to drop off some library books and get attacked by some sort of magical creatures."

"That's a very accurate description of how my life has gone so far, yes," Shiloh deadpanned, but couldn't prevent the smile that lept onto her lips afterward. "Does it remind you of that time I snuck into the old Ravenscar mansion in Idris and got attacked by their Irish Wolfhound?"

The blond young man laughed aloud. "Of course! That old thing was bigger than you were. You jumped out the window to get away!"

"It was totally your fault, though," Shiloh replied, crossing her arms. "You dared me to."

"No," Blanche started slowly, "I told you, 'No, Shy, old man Ravenscar has a huge dog in there and it'll bite you.'"

"...That is not how I remember it."

* * *

 _ **An -** Sorry for the crappiness of this chapter - I really just wanted to give you guys something to read. I've been so busy lately!_

 _Anyway, please review and let me know if you've got any ideas for the story, or what you'd maybe like to see later?_

 _Love you guys!_

 _-Snowy_


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